Storms.
This island was full of them. But for all their fury, for all their power, they paled to the storm of hate and rage burning in the eyes of a young, blonde miqo’te standing several meters before Jorrus on the dirt road. Harsh winds slammed into them both, drenching them in the torrents of falling rain as the storm pelted the island of Limsia. Around the pair, the fields of long grass swayed violently. Jorrus’ gold eyes met this young man’s mismatched orbs of hate and furry and the viera gave a low, slow sigh; his breath leaving his lips as a fog on the cold air.
“Why!” Yimir screamed as he clenched his fists. His heart was rage and pain. His sister was dead because of this man and he didn’t even get to know why. “Why did yuh kill muh sister! What did she do to ye?!”
Jorrus said nothing. He only narrowed his eyes and tensed his body for the conflict that was sure to come. The silence enraged Yimir further and his eyes flared with a golden light as his aether ripped through his body.
“I’ll kill you!” Yimir bellowed as he summoned his magics and hurled a ball of golden fire at Jorrus.
The viera threw himself into the dancing grass and was lost to sight.
Thunder boomed above the pair as the fireball smashed into the fields and ignited the soaked grass. Steam and smoke began to billow as Yimir advanced slowly, conjuring more globes of golden flames to his hands as he walked.
“I’ll kill ye. I’ll end yer life for what ye did tuh muh sister!” he howled over the shrieking wind. He could sense the aether of the man. The man would die. He would burn and suffer the way his sister had. He would…
The man’s aether signature vanished. Yimir blinked in confusion and he hurled both balls of fire at the spot Jorrus had been. Twin columns of fire erupted as the balls of ather impacted the earth. The golden flames began to eat through the fields. The steam grew heavier as the cold rain turned to a thick vapor on contact.
Yimir strained, his aether sweeping the fields but could not find a sign of Jorrus. All he saw was waving seas of tall grass.
Anger grew with frustration and Yimir began randomly hurling balls of fire without regard, turning the fields into infernos, chocking the entire area with smoke and mist.
“Where are ye!” Yimir shrieked, half mad with anger and grief as he looked around wildly.
Jorrus said nothing as he suddenly emerged from the nearby grass, his shotgun leveled at Yimir.
He fired once and there was a small, gold explosion as a tarot card from Yimir’s deck flew free of his pocked and intercepted the round. Jorrus fired again, and another card blocked the slug.
The miqo’te spun, digging his heels into the earth as went to make another ball of fire. Yimir saw the bracelet on Jorrus’ left wrist glowing and suspected -that- was why he could not sense Jorrus’ aether. Jorrus leapt, swinging his shotgun like an axe, using the axeblade bayonet to its intent. Another tarot card parried the attack, but Yimir had to step back to avoid the blade. Another swing from the axe was parried but it nicked Yimir’s ear and he felt hot pain as the tip was severed. Yimir was on the defensive now as Jorrus began his advance, his axe moving with a frantic speed. Tarrot card after tarot card vanished in a blaze of gold under the assault of Garlean steel. Each card saved Yimir’s life but the miqo’te’s robe was a ruin and blood coated his chest from a multitude of cuts.
Yimir needed a moment, just a moment!
The storm raged above and the flames grew closer as the winds blew the hungry tongues of fire about in all directions.
Yimir felt his last tarot card leave his pocket and he panicked. He had nothing left! In a terrified moment, he lunged forward, his hands burning as he tried to seized Jorrus’s gun. The weapon bounced off the last card and right into Yimir’s hands. Jorrus gasped as the weapon began to melt instantly and he took a step back as he let go.
Yimir tossed the weapon down, orbs of fire in his hands.
He had the murderer now! Yimir went to throw the fire and-
A gunshot rang out. Yimir jerked still. His eyes stared, suddenly unseeing. He swayed uneasily and then a gust of hard wind blew him onto his back. He slammed down and his eyes gazed up at the sky. But he saw nothing. The flames died in his hands and the bullet hole in Yimir’s head began to fill with blood and water.
Jorrus lowered his revolver as he panted heavily. Despite the cold rain, he was sweating profusely from his assault and his lungs burned from inhaling the smoke of the burning fields. He looked a the dead miqo’te at his feet and gave a small sigh.
“What a waste.” Jorrus remarked soflty. Another of Tray’ju’s brood dead for their father’s actions. Jorrus hadn’t come to kill of an entire line, just the sire. The viera approached the lad’s corpse and began to search the body. Papers, inks, and a few letters. These were not the possessions of a normally violent man. Jorrus chewed his lip. He found a few pearls and pocketed them. The flames came close and Jorrus hefted the dead Yimir onto his shoulder before he began a slow retreat.
For nearly a bell Jorrus walked until he came to a small, wooden pavilion beside the road. He slipped beneath it and lowered the body to the wooden floor.
Jorrus leaned against one of the low railings and watched the rain fall as he pulled out the pearls and began to try them one by one, asking for Tray.
Eventually he got his man.
“Who is this?” came a voice that sounded very relaxed. It wasn’t what Jorrus had been expecting. At all.
“My name doesn’t matter.” Jorrus replied. “What does is that I think it best we meet before I kill any more of your children.”
“What?” Tray stammered, shocked by that claim.
“I did not stutter, Mr. Estinoch.” Jorrus said, his voice calm but harsh.
“What…I..who the fuck are ye! I..I swear to the gods if ye hurt Yimir, I’ll kill ye!”
“The blonde boy?” Jorrus asked, looking at the body at his feet.
“Yes…” Tray’s voice broke and Jorrus had to pause.
“You know the crossroads north of Limsia?” Jorrus inquired in an almost gentle voice.
“Yes…” Trays voice was a chocking sob.
“I’m leaving his body there so you can give him his last rites.”
Tray broke down wailing on the other end of the line and Jorrus had to swallow again. He took no joy in this.
“Why, ye son of a fucking bitch, why?!”
“Because the world is at war, Mr. Estinoch.” Jorrus explained slowly. “And you played a part in that war when you killed Frandrin Mandrin. Did you really think the Empire would let that go unpunished?”
“I’ll kill ye! I swear to the fuckin’ twelve I’ll-”
“Bury your son and daughter first, Mr. Estinoch. I’ll come by to kill you afterwards.”
Jorrus dropped the pearl and crushed it beneath his booted heel as Tray continued to swear and sob. Jorrus turned and looked at Yimir’s body. He knelt down and closed the still open eyes. He was silent and still for a few minutes before he pulled the boy’s hood over his head and face and then rose, stepping back into the storm and vanishing like a ghost in the torrent of rain.
